Jayems dissected a steak. “Don’t count on it. The older council members will not be forgiving of this, and the younger men can be volatile. I expect trouble.”
“We’re ready for it,” Keilor said calmly. “Will you explain the danger to Rihlia or leave her in happy ignorance?” It was a jest, for as Master of the Hunt, the head of the military, Keilor made sure he was aware of everything that went on around him. He had to be. He wouldn’t advocate leaving Rihlia in ignorance, not when knowledge would
make her more cautious.
“Not directly, not yet. First I’m going to hire tutors--she has twenty years of history and politics to catch up on. I’ve already sent a message to her mother, who I expect in a matter of days.” He grimaced. “Don’t tell her. She has such explosive reactions to these things, and I’m not ready for that storm yet. I’m hoping to use the days in between to build her trust. I’d like to become a source of support to her instead of just an enemy.”
Keilor smirked. “Has Lord Romantic lost his touch? Last I saw, you had no trouble getting women to adore you.”
Jayems adopted a mild expression. “I would have said the same of you, until I saw how the Slyph loathed you.”
Keilor lost the humor. “I don’t want her to like me. I’m not a man who is led around by the nose or anything else. I haven’t forgotten that she’s dangerous. You’d do well to avoid her yourself, or to find your way into Rihlia’s bed very soon. You know the pheromone has no effect on a mated man.”
An image jumped to mind at Keilor’s words, but Jayems swiftly thrust it aside. A spike of possessiveness stabbed him instead. He didn’t want any man speculating about his woman. “Be careful how you speak of her.”
“Noted. You do need to marry, however. You
will
marry. I’d just like to see you hurry it up.”
Jayems snorted. Keilor was a practical man, as long as they weren’t discussing his marriage. Keilor was happy as a bachelor and had his share of ambitious huntresses trying to catch him. Any mention of them usually sent him running to the practice fields to grind out his frustrations.
He was right, though. The political situation would calm down once the marriage was consummated. Rihlia’s father had some fierce supporters in his day, and they would rally around his daughter. As a man in power, Jayems had to be careful who he wed.
He’d been devoted to Rihlia’s father, a factor that had moved him to agree to the betrothal; inherited supporters could make such a difference.
The other side would do anything to destroy that support.
They might try to kill Rihlia.
He sighed. He wanted her here. Duty was part of it, but he wanted the little girl they’d lost to find her way home. He knew a part of her was gone forever, but something remained. His Rihlia was lost in a maze of thorns, and it was up to him to cut her a way out. She might not like his methods, but he was looking for results. He would find a way to bring her back.
* * * *
Wiley would do almost anything to get home, so she let Jasmine convince her to try her scheme, even though she doubted it would work. She knew the capabilities of their guards far better than Jas. Without explaining how she knew, it was impossible to convince Jas to give up. Who knew? Maybe her crazy plan would actually work.
It wasn’t hard to get outside, near the woods. Either her guards had been ordered to be especially lenient, or they had confidence they could keep her under control. She suspected both, knowing Jayems. She had an uneasy feeling that he’d also been informed what they were up to. She opened her mouth to caution Jasmine, but it was too late.
“All right, start counting,” Jas said, and took off into the brush outside the Citadel.
Their guards watched, but didn’t interfere with the game. That made Wiley even more uneasy. She just couldn’t see this plan working, but Jas never gave up.
The idea was to play hide and seek, with Lemming doing the tracking. Gradually, Jasmine was going to work her way back toward the gate to Earth. Having been conscious when she was brought in, she actually knew where that was. She’d assured Wiley that it wasn’t far.
As agreed, they played the game five times. On the fifth try, Jas made her run for it.
She didn’t come back.
Wiley bit her lip as she watched the woods. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Jayems’ steward, Knighten, appeared at her elbow. “Come along, milady. Your lord wishes to speak to you.”
Her eyes narrowed with worry, and she glanced at the trees. “My friend’s still out there.”
“Lord Keilor is seeing to her.” He herded her along by the simple expedient of stepping into her space.
Resenting his presumption, she let herself be ushered into Jayems’ rooms, prepared to act angry. It was hard when she was worrying what Keilor’s “seeing to her”
entailed. If he hurt her, it would be Wiley’s fault for agreeing to the scheme. Jasmine was too impulsive sometimes, but Jayems had promised not to hurt her. She just hoped he was as good as his word.
Jayems looked up from the papers on his desk when she came in. “Please be seated, Rihlia.” He flicked a glance at Knighten, who left the room.
“I was in the middle of a game,” she said curtly.
“I heard.” He looked at her for a long moment. “I think it’s time I explained my position more fully. My duty is to protect my family and the people under my authority. I suspect an invasion of humans from the gate would violate that agreement, don’t you?”
His words confirmed that the guards had overheard them. She looked aside. “We just want to go home.”
“Secrecy has protected us for three hundred years. How do you think your rescuers would react to discovering the Dark Lands and the Haunt? The television reporters would become involved, the military, your late government. Use your imagination.”
She shivered. He was painting an ugly picture. “Just let us go, then.” Her voice had gotten smaller.
“No.” He didn’t qualify it or try to soothe her sensibilities. He looked back at his work. “You may go.”
“What about Jasmine? You promised not to hurt her.”
He met her gaze with eyes the color of polished bronze. “I haven’t touched her.”
She heard the subtle emphasis. Seriously spooked, she shut herself in her room and paced. When she’d worked up enough nerve, she went back to demand to see Jasmine.
Keilor was there, leaning against Jayems’ desk. His eyes were dilated, and he held a drink in his hand.
She froze like a doe scenting fresh blood.
“She’s in her room,” he said. He took another drink.
Wiley raced to Jasmine’s room and burst in, expecting to find Jasmine half dead.
Instead she was curled up on her tan and chocolate velvet couch, brooding.
“Where’s your keeper?” Jas asked.
Wilting with relief, Wiley waved her hand. “Gone. But how are you?” She knelt in front of the couch, concern clenching her stomach. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Before Wiley could question her, she added, “How did he know? There shouldn’t have been enough time for them to figure anything out.”
Guilt pricked her. Pretending she knew less than she did, Wiley moved to an armchair, tucking one long leg under her. “Lights,” she ordered and then, “Shutters.”
Hoping to avoid more in depth questions, she said, “They figured it out right away. The Haunt brought me back here and Jayems told me that they knew.” She shivered, remembering what else he’d said. Her eyes swept down. “I was afraid of what Keilor would do when he found you.” She peeked through her lashes to see Jasmine busily avoiding her eyes. Her voice ached when she asked, “What did he do, Jas?” She was afraid of the answer, but she needed to know. If it was the worst, then she wanted to help make it better.
Jasmine looked at her and up at the ceiling, then took a deep breath. “He tied me up to a tree and kissed me,” she confessed quickly, and blushed.
“
What
?” Wiley hadn’t expected that. The way Keilor had looked … she knew Jasmine’s taste in men. Hadn’t they traded opinions for years? Keilor was just her type, and if all he’d done was kiss her friend …
“How was it?”
Jasmine bounded off the couch, putting an armchair between them as if to stop the flow of curiosity. “Wiley! How could you ask me that?”
Wiley regarded her with the knowledge of years of friendship. “I know you’re attracted to him. I saw you eyeing his backside earlier.” When Jasmine flushed and mumbled, she went on knowingly, “And if he’d hurt you, or you’d hated it, you’d be upset in a different way. So come on,” she coaxed. “Spill the beans.”
Jasmine kneaded the back of the chair and grumbled, “It was ... okay.”
Wiley’s eyes brightened and she sat up, drawing her other leg under her. “Just okay?”
“Bah.” Jasmine hunched her shoulders. “All right! Better than okay. More like …
all the stars fell and lit up my sky,” she finished softly.
“Wow,” Wiley breathed. Oh, Jasmine had it bad, and for her cousin, of all things.
Gleeful anticipation distracted her for a moment, until she remembered that she didn’t want Jasmine falling for that particular cousin. They were supposed to be trying to escape.
But if they didn’t, Keilor was in trouble.
“But it’s not going to happen again,” Jasmine said forcefully. She walked around the chair and sat down. Drawing her knees to her chest, she hugged them protectively.
“I’m not going to let that snake get within ten feet of me next time.”
That was unlikely, though Wiley kept it to herself. She had a feeling that Keilor was going to be underfoot a lot, keeping an eye on them. After their aborted escape attempt, she’d lay money on it.
She sighed with regret. “I guess we won’t be going home any time soon.”
Jasmine grunted. “A gun,” she muttered, scrubbing her face. “That’s what I need the next time. A gun to shoot the son of a bitch before he gets his hands on me.”
Wiley turned troubled eyes on her. It was happening, the thing she’d feared.
Already her loyalties were being divided. She could kill Jayems! “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Jas. Besides, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to take it well if you turned a gun on him. He might ... take it personally.”
That silenced her. Jasmine sat there for a while, and then asked, “So, Jayems wants to marry you. Has he kissed you yet?”
Wiley stiffened. “Nosey, aren’t you?”
“He has.” Jasmine studied her. “Was it repulsive?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Wi, this is me. Talk. I’ve been going crazy, praying he hasn’t hurt you.”
“He hasn’t hurt me.”
“But he kissed you.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Wiley insisted, glossing over the truth. She’d had enough kisses to know when one held potential, but it didn’t matter. “I’m not marrying him for his kisses.”
“Then you’re going to marry him?”
“No! Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t even know him. I don’t even like him!” But she was starting to. Know him, that is. She couldn’t like him, not after he’d scared her to death that afternoon. Grudgingly, she admitted that he’d kept his promise not to hurt Jasmine, but that wasn’t a reason to like him. It was a tiny point in his favor that he’d keep his promises, though.
Too bad she couldn’t make him promise to send her home.
Jayems was half dressed.
Wiley stopped in the doorway, surprised to see him sliding away a sword. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of loose maroon pants. A light tracing of hair trailed down his hard chest to his waistband and disappeared.
Knighten, who was similarly dressed, bowed to her and stepped around her.
Uneasy with how much she’d noticed of Jayems, Wiley remembered the Haunt guards at her back and stepped inside. They shut the door behind her, leaving her alone with him.
“Did you have a good visit?” Jayems asked cordially, pouring himself a glass of water. She tried not to notice how the sweat trickled down his throat as he tipped his head back.
“Yes.” She took a seat on the couch, adjusting a throw pillow. “You guys still use swords here? They have guns these days, you know.”
“We have guns. He sat down opposite her. “We practice all kinds of armed and unarmed combat. Guns do nothing to exercise the body.” Judging by his, he exercised regularly.